The Madness of Gods and Kings (10 page)

A cold sensation ran through Orlek as he realized why the big man seemed dangerous. Because he was. He was staring down a Vengeance Knight.

The fire was warm, but the wind still managed to worm through the stacked trees at precisely the wrong moments. Orlek would have liked to have been in a nice tavern with no elements to deal with. Life as a soldier wasn’t that kind. He grunted. Probably why he didn’t last very long in the rank and file. Still, he couldn’t complain about being part of the rebellion. Before Ingrid came along he was just another body with a sword. A part of the initial mission to raid the weapons locker on the docks, he’d worked with Joefke and Lord Argis. That had been a battle worthy of remembering. Nothing he’d done since fleeing from Chadra held much meaning, despite his elevation in rank. Nothing, that is, but his blooming love for Ingrid.

Thoughts of tempered blond kept him warm on cold nights. She was a remarkable woman just beginning to come into her full potential. He hoped she survived this war. Delranan needed better people like her. Hells, he needed her. She caught him staring fondly at her from across the fire and flashed a tender smile. It warmed his heart to know she might feel the same.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

Orlek rubbed a hand over the top of his head. “They’re a dangerous bunch. The Giant alone could kill every one of us without breaking a sweat. A Giant, Ingrid! Who would have thought we’d have one in our camp? They’re not supposed to exist.”

“All legends are based on some form of reality,” she said. “They do appear to be quite the eclectic group. A Giant, Dwarf, Gaimosian, and more. What do you make of the old man and that strange woman they travel with?”

Orlek’s face turned serious. “I’ve heard whispers he’s a wizard and she’s his bodyguard.”

Ingrid paused. Bahr never mentioned a wizard being part of this. The last she knew, all of the wizards and Mages had died out. Having one, if it was true, in her hands would drastically alter the balance in the war. She’d be able to drive Harnin from Chadra and assume the stewardship of Delranan until a rightful king was emplaced. Even the best-laid plans are filled with faults. This was no different. With Bahr returned, there was no chance for her to sit on the throne. Not that she wanted to rule. Quite the opposite, Ingrid merely wanted Delranan to be free again with a just ruler in place.

“We can use this to our advantage,” she said, her mind already racing ahead.

Orlek wasn’t convinced. Nothing about the group suggested they were interested in helping the rebellion. “I agree but don’t see how. My guess is they are going to leave just as soon as the sun comes up and there’s not much we can do to stop them. Not unless we get attacked by Harnin’s forces first.”

She briefly toyed with the idea before discarding it. Bringing Harnin down on them wouldn’t solve anything. The latest reports from the field had Lord Jarrik and Inaella leading the two-thousand-man force hunting them down. She shuddered to think what the pockmarked woman would do if she ever got her hands around Ingrid’s throat. As much as it pained her to admit it, the war was not going very well. Her fighters were tired, sorely trained, and running out of the desire to carry on. The initial boost they’d gotten when she took the fight into the countryside was fading. She needed to come up with a victory fast or risk losing it all out of sheer indifference.

“Bring me Bahr. I have to try and convince him to help us. We are, after all, his people.” The dominant glimmer in her eyes was one he’d seen too many times before. It thrilled him in different ways. Perhaps hope loomed on the horizon after all.

Aurec’s Decisions

The last few battalions straggled into the night’s encampment on weary legs. On the move since dawn, they were the rearguard and forced to endure endless leagues of stop-and-go movement. The elastic tendencies of an army on the move was well known by every infantrymen ever made, and none appreciated it. Stretching moments of standing still followed by having to hurry to catch up to the unit in front of the column drove many of the younger soldiers mad. Only the generals on their horses seemed unaffected.

Fires raged, having been set by the vanguard and logistics battalions Rolnir pushed to the head of the column. He believed in taking care of his men and that meant having warmth and hot food waiting for them when they reached the camp each and every day. As was his custom, he waited on foot for the very last man to pass before retiring for the night to a seemingly endless stream of meetings with his senior staff.

Normally the Wolfsreik operated alone in the field. He was the closest thing to a god the soldiers knew and that’s how it should be. King Badron’s decision to tag along with the main body during the Rogscroft invasion was frowned upon but he was the king. Rolnir was forced to shift tactics and endure what he considered pointless questioning from the king. The waste of man hours from standing in audience alone was infuriating. Thankfully King Aurec was the opposite. Here was a man Rolnir could enjoy working with.

That easy-mannered work relationship didn’t figure in to how he was going to explain to the freshly crowned king that the mountains were next to impassable. He smiled and waved at the last few ranks, reaching out to slap a few beleaguered men on their shoulders while shouting words of encouragement. Soldiers liked to feel appreciated. He had when he went up through the ranks. Every little thing to boost morale was being done. Most of these men were beyond sore, exhausted, and mentally fatigued. They only had so much left to give. Soldiers were hard men by necessity, but he felt he’d already asked for too much. Gloom cast over his face as he slowly headed towards the command tents. The Murdes Mountains loomed over them majestically in the background.

One minor problem lost amidst the horrors of war. What did I do to get myself in this situation? Life used to be so simple, now I’m mired in an unending nightmare from which there is no escape. At least the Pell are on our side. Fighting them once was bad enough. I do hope the young king can pull off what he’s got in mind. Otherwise
….

Lost in thought, Rolnir wormed through the army offering absentminded words of encouragement as weary men collapsed in front of fires, wolfed down their meals, or cleaned their weapons and gear. A life of marching was hard on any race. The slackers were long weeded out. All that remained were the resolute. The veterans. Muscles were hardened from overuse. Body fat was burned away from countless days of marching and fighting. Wars were not for the faint of heart. It takes a special breed of man to watch his friends die around him and still go willingly into battle. Empty places around the campfires haunted the survivors. Fond memories of those lost. Yet they carried on, for kingdom and each other. Rolnir could give them no less.

He ducked entering the command tent, returning the salutes of the pair of Rogscroft guards. Rolnir grinned ruefully. There was a time when the men at the door were staunch enemies. How fickle war was, he mused. Enemies become friends while allies turn their backs. The warmth from the fire hit him immediately, nearly making him forget the frigidness of the early night. A mass of bodies shuffled around. Most had parchments and evening reports from each small unit commander detailing the status of their soldiers and supply needs. The senior commanders would be along shortly for their nightly debriefing. Rolnir was in no mood to listen to the repetitive statistics, not tonight.

He felt lethargic, stale. Going home harbored mixed emotions he was only now coming to realize he wasn’t prepared to deal with. They’d camped less than a day from the mountains yet close enough to remain enshrouded in the shadows for most of the day. Rolnir much preferred the open plains. There were too many places to hide in the mountains, making him uneasy.

Piper walked up and forced a mug of ale into his hands. “Last troops are tucked safely away in their bivouac I see?”

Feigning a smile, Rolnir accepted the mug gratefully and drank deeply. “Do you remember a time before all of this? I can’t.”

“This doesn’t sound like you,” Piper admonished. “I’m supposed to be the one down on his luck and all. What’s wrong?”

Feeling trapped in his memories, Rolnir stood with downcast eyes for a moment. “Nothing,” he finally answered. “Just tired is all. Is everyone here?”

A nod. “Our young king is busy in the back discussing matters with Vajna. The others are busy pouring over the maps.”

Rolnir asked, “Why aren’t you?”

Piper shrugged. “I can only look at a map for so long before my eyes begin to hurt. Besides, maps don’t do much of anything. Especially when I have scouts.”

Borderline arrogant, Piper was steadily, if too slowly, getting back to his old self. This war had taken an exhaustive toll on the second in command. He’d lost too much weight and bore an unnatural amount of guilt in his once-sharp eyes. Too much pain did that to a man, and Piper was just another soldier. He seldom utilized his position for anything other than to snag a mug of ale from time to time. A professional, he’d rather be out with the soldiers, living as they did. His men appreciated that, even if they never voiced it.

“You’d better not get us lost,” Rolnir scolded.

“Where we are going? Not bloody likely,” the thinner man said and almost laughed.

Enough said, the duo headed towards Aurec. Rolnir couldn’t put the meeting off any longer without looking like a fool. Most conversation stopped with their arrival. Heads turned and nodded or bowed in acknowledgment. Rolnir greeted them all in kind. They’d become familiar faces by now. Not exactly treasured, but welcome enough that he’d regret losing any of them. The unifying endearing factor stemmed from most of them having prior military experience. He appreciated that aspect, knowing they’d tend to have more compassion for the army than a politician would.

King Aurec was the first to break the crowd and shake Rolnir’s hand. “Ah, General Rolnir, now we can begin.”

Aurec had developed, out of necessity, over the course of winter. He’d been a brash, impulsive young man when he stole into Chadra Keep to rescue his love from Badron’s harsh grasp. The resulting war and beheading of his own father broke him and reforged him into a stronger, more mature man. Barely into his twenties, he was now monarch to a beleaguered kingdom.

Not feeling the need to explain his nightly actions, the Wolfsreik general marched over to take his place at the makeshift table occupying the rear tent. Vajna was already there, the older general looking haggard but in good spirits. Venten sat beside the king. His frost-white hair and face full of lines made him look older than he felt. A lifetime of being advisor to the king and a soldier before that had hardened him. Thorsson, now command sergeant major of the combined army, stood, as was the preference of most senior, noncommissioned officers. They largely despised meetings, thinking of the myriad tasks they could be accomplishing at that same moment.

Raste and Mahn were the most unusual of the group. Scouts, the pair was mostly absent. They’d survived improbable situations over the course of the war and didn’t really seem to get along. Yet they were among the most competent men Rolnir ever led. The Pell Darga chieftain, Cuul Ol, squatted beside the table. A man of the mountains, he was uncomfortable with lowland civilization and its faults. His dark, weather-stained skin stuck out from the rest of the pale-skinned warriors. If he noticed he didn’t care. They’d all grown to become equals over the course of the winter war.

“We are faced with a difficult decision, one I wish we could have delayed a little longer to let nature do the job for us,” Aurec said evenly. His gaze swept over the council of leaders. “We’re less than a day from the Murdes Mountains and still awaiting reports on whether the passes are clear or not. The way I see it we have three choices. First, we wait for the spring thaw, but with winter being more severe than in recent years, who can say how long that will take. Or we could spend countless man hours digging our way through. The men will be exhausted by the time we reach Delranan. Add the fact that we don’t know what to expect once we arrive, we could well be slaughtered. The last option is to march south around the mountains. I don’t need to tell any of you how many weeks this will add to our task, perhaps months. Gentlemen, my mind is torn. I want to hear what you think.”

No one spoke. This was a moment they’d anticipated but long dreaded. The Murdes Mountains were harsh on a good day. In winter they were unforgivable. Hundreds of fools thinking to conquer the vast peaks were lost, their skeletons painful reminders to those who came after that the mountains would not be bested. Rogscroft and Delranan had each lost more men than could be easily counted. If Aurec had his way they wouldn’t lose any more. They were going to need as many battle-ready soldiers as possible to crush the madness in Delranan and finally end the long war.

Cuul Ol was the first to speak his mind. As master of the Pell Darga, he alone knew the mountains best. If anyone was going to find a way through, it was him. “Mountains are never safe. Many places to fall and die. The snows are deep but there are secret ways. Ways no lowlander knows.”

Hope sprang to life in the young king’s eyes. This was the glimmer he’d been hoping for. “Cuul Ol, I know that never before have our tribes allied themselves. Your secrets are cherished as much as our own are to us, but will you consider showing us? I don’t need to remind you that all of our kingdoms are in grave peril should we fail to stop Badron and Harnin One Eye. Will you help us?”

The Pell chieftain gave a toothy grin that repulsed more than one at the council table. Broken, crooked teeth stained yellow and rare shades of brown almost leered at them. Mahn was positive he saw bits of chewed meat stuck between them. “The clan chiefs will not be pleased. Take much to make them agree.”

“Are these paths wide enough to facilitate rapid troop movement?” Rolnir asked. He didn’t care about the politics between Pell chiefs. Cuul was their leader as far as he was concerned and his word should be final. The rest boiled down to semantics. One way or another, the allied army was going across the mountains. Getting there was the trick.

Cuul scratched his lightly bearded jaw and nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. We Pell have never had so many warriors. I must see the chiefs.”

“What do you need from us?” Aurec asked. His eagerness bled through his voice. It had been so long since he’d held much hope, even after the successful recapture of his beloved home and unification with the Wolfsreik. Rogscroft remained in ruins and, despite their combined efforts to rebuild in the middle of winter, had so much farther to go. His people needed the victory over Badron to be complete before they could move on without the blanket of fear that had for so long permeated the air between them.

Cuul gestured towards the pair of scouts. “I take these two. They will witness what the chiefs say.”

Raste looked sharply at the older Mahn who barely seemed phased. They were the natural choices as far as he was concerned. The first to make contact with the Pell, they had been captured on their way through the mountains after the raid to get Maleela. The younger Raste had been indignant, nearly getting them both killed before Mahn managed to calm him down. The longer the war dragged on, the calmer Raste became. He’d survived the siege of Rogscroft, watching several friends fall during the last few moments before Goblins swarmed the walls. Becoming an integral part of the new army was just what the young scout needed to mature and develop a stronger sense of responsibility.

Slowly, with deliberate intent, Mahn turned to his young counterpart with the faintest hint of a grin. Perhaps going back to the mountains with Cuul Ol was exactly what Raste needed to remind him of where they’d come from. No good came from having a misplaced sense of entitlement and that was certainly what tainted the young man now.

“We accept,” Mahn answered for them. “It will be good to get back to doing our real jobs. We’ve sat too long in luxury. Scouts aren’t accustomed to such.”

Piper covered his broad smile so as not to offend Rolnir or Aurec. As the first man to enter Rogscroft, he knew too well how important it was for a scout to be in his element.

Aurec nestled back in his field chair. “Very well, it’s settled. Cuul Ol will take Mahn and Raste back to the mountains. General Rolnir, how long will you need to order the army in line of march?”

“Not long. I generally advance in the order of battle I want to fight with. We can heavy load the infantry in the front with archer support directly behind. My only concern is with the cavalry. Depending on how deep the snows are and how wide the secret ways are, we might be without that heavy support for a while.”

“Can’t you load them in the front?” Vajna asked. An infantryman at heart, the versatility of the cavalry was a relatively new notion for him to consider. Rogscroft seldom had a large army and certainly no big units of horse.

Rolnir shook his head. “The horses would be useless without infantry support and, even if they managed to break through the snow, they’d outpace the rest of the army. If Harnin utilizes proper tactics he will have a line of defenses established along the mouths of the mountain passes. Redoubts and trenches dug to prevent a massed charge. This is a fight that will be done by the grunts, I’m afraid.”